


these are my confessions

by chimericalEscapist (Adasser)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Coming Out, Family, M/M, Minor Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adasser/pseuds/chimericalEscapist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this kink meme prompt: </p><p>So Dave has been in a relationship with a MALE (this is critical to the story so take note) character and wants to tell his bro.</p><p>Looking back at all the "durr hurr Bro is a homophobe" fics running around with the knowledge that Bro is gay...well, I just want Dave to come out to his bro, which triggers Bro's own coming-out and then they hug and I get all the feels.</p><p>Bonus points if his partner is a troll and doesn't know why it's such a big deal that Dave loves boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these are my confessions

**Dave: Be the coolkid with the loser boyfriend.**

You’d like to be, but under extreme consideration, your boyfriend’s loser status was revoked when you discovered he was built like a brickhouse and could probably lift two of them at once. You weren’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to you before arriving on that blasted meteor that trolls might be kind of large, where “kind of large” means a good foot taller than the tallest of the humans (John, who beat you to the title by about a centimetre) and about twice the necessary width. 

For some reason, you’d still been sure that adiosToreadork would be a puny outlier. You discovered that you’d been terribly, terribly mistaken when you finally met him the first time in a dream bubble, and he was all broad shoulders and bulging biceps and pecs that would have turned you gay if you weren’t already a raging faggot. You fell for that alien dude, or at least the thought of being pressed against him.

Bro would be fucking proud, you’d sassed yourself in a fit of self-loathing.

But trolls didn’t have “gay” and “normal,” and you lived on a meteor with no one but them and your slime sister, who simply told you to embrace your latent homosexuality, for far too long. It didn’t matter that you were a piece of shit, because your options were incest and xeno. You figured if you were signing up for the tentacle rape, you might as well enjoy it.

So you saw Tavros a few more times. He’d died before you had ever arrived, although few people were willing to talk about the circumstances. All you knew was that things had been rough for a lot of troll kids. A veritable rainbow of blood had been spilt—and drunk, apparently. 

You understood more than you wished when Tavros said he didn’t want to talk about it. 

He told you he’d been paralysed one day. The shock you displayed must have been tangible, because he looked ready to apologise, but you shook your head and asked him what happened.

He told you it was an accident. 

You knew better.

Sometimes he talked about things that made him uncomfortable. The paralysis, his lusus, dying. Rufio. Sometimes he tried to talk about things that didn’t. Rapping, his brief stint with robolegs, Fiduspawn. But no matter what he said, his eyes were always on you, and some days you didn’t dare look back at him. You were too afraid you’d see the same fond expression on his face that you knew you were wearing. 

He told you he pitied you soon after.

You punched him square in the nose and tried to claw his eyes out. But then you were awake, well away from the dream bubble. 

Rose caught on, as always. She enlisted Kanaya’s help, and together they explained what Tavros had meant. You’d never felt more like a jackass. You’d never felt so sick to your stomach. You didn’t eat until some time after you saw Tavros again.

He didn’t want to look at you. You could share the sentiment; you didn’t want to look at you, either. You apologised. He didn’t ask what for. 

When you woke, you didn’t dare let yourself acknowledge the pain in your chest. You had done the right thing.

Two years passed too quickly. You saw Tavros less. You missed him more. You were desperate for his stare in a way that you never had been before. On the mornings after you saw him, you woke up only to jerk yourself to the memory of his voice.

You hated yourself a little more every time.

But soon enough, you had other things to worry about besides your aching hard-on for alien dick. You threw yourself into training with an unrivalled fervour. You spent breakfast letting Rose lecture you; you spent lunch arguing over plans with Karkat. 

No one knew what exactly was coming, but you all knew that it terrified every one of you. 

You were nothing like the hero you professed yourself to be, but you put on a good show. You fought. And when Lord English came, you went down swinging.

You woke shortly thereafter in your own dreambubble. You didn’t have to wait around for anyone to tell you that you were dead. You didn’t even have the solace that you were one of the doomed Daves. You were the real Dave, and all the Daves you could’ve possibly made wouldn’t have saved you. 

You weren’t sure how long you spent alone before your dream bubble bumped into Tavros’. It wasn’t long enough.

He was still every bit the frustratingly sexy man that you remembered. He was more frustrating when he realised you were actually dead. He didn’t apologise or welcome you; he only stared blankly, as if he couldn’t believe the truth. 

I never was good enough, you wanted to tell him. 

I never deserved anything you gave me.

But then he crossed the distance you didn’t dare cross, and he held you against his chest, and you listened to the music of his reassuring words. You knew what he had gone through, so you didn’t dare to return the embrace.

For someone who lived his life doing what he wanted, there were a lot of things you didn’t dare do. 

It turned out that these were all things Tavros was more than willing to do for you. 

You were having a rap battle when it slipped out again. The dreaded three words, with the twist that had made you want to tear him into shreds when he’d first said them; this time, they made your hands shake and your stomach churn. Tavros stopped entirely; stopped talking, stopped watching you, stopped moving. 

For a long moment you weren’t sure if he even was listening when you told him that you wanted to pity him, too.

You found out that he actually was when he tucked you against his body and kissed you so softly you scarce wanted to break the moment with a single movement. No matter how much the disgust at yourself welled up deep inside you, you didn’t stop him. It was nice to feel loved despite it all. 

Eventually, both of you found yourselves deposited unceremoniously on a darkened shoreline. It wasn’t Earth, and a shake of Tavros’ head told you it wasn’t Alternia, either. It took a long moment before either of you registered that your friends had managed to win—that you were alive, that you were in the new world—and you shared a passionate moment of celebration.

You ignored the tell-tale sting in your newly beating heart that reminded you they didn’t need you to make any of this happen.

Tavros just held you close. 

Tavros turned out to be surprisingly resourceful, and surprise ironic camping trips with Bro had taught you enough about living in the wilderness. The two of you managed to fashion a makeshift tent, although you tried not to think about what it was made of, and things were as peaceful as they could be for a while.

Then John showed up.

You are curled around Tavros, his chin pressed to the top of your head. Daylight had come a few hours ago, but you still have no desire to crawl out of your shitty tent while your bubblemate-turned-boyfriendsprit is softly humming songs from Peter—Pupa, he would correct, smiling—Pan. His body is warm against you, and every once in a while, he will drag his fingers through your hair or kiss the top of your head or trail the length of your spine.

The peaceful moment is broken by a noise outside that almost seems like someone shouting, and Tavros stills while you lift your head curiously.

“Guys! This must be it!” The shouting seems closer now, as if the speaker is running toward the tent. You hear the earth crunch beneath sneakers, and you pull away from Tavros in time before John appears at the opening of the tent. “Dave! Tavros!” he exclaims cheerfully. “I didn’t think we’d find both of you!”

You exhale and look him over. He looks clean, unlike the two of you. “Where are we?”

“We’re not sure what to call it—Karkat voted Fruity Rumpus Asshole Factory, but the rest of us think that’s a bit too long,” he explains, managing not to tell you at all where you’ve ended up. When you don’t display any understanding, he eventually says, “You two kinda ended up in the middle of nowhere. Sollux and Roxy figured out this really complicated computer thing to find the rest of you, though.”

“Who all is, still, missing?”




“Well, Gamzee kinda disappeared after we got here, to no one knows where. And no one’s found Equius or Nepeta, but besides that, everyone’s okay!”

You slowly manage to join John outside. “You got a plan to get us to some civilisation? Nitram here’s starting to smell like a longhorn.” You can practically feel Tavros’ offended frown, and you turn to give him your patented Chill, Dude, I’m Joking look. 

“Oh, do I ever!”

John chatters ceaselessly once you’re escorted onto some weird pseudo-spaceship. You pass through a few transportalizers before you get back to what they seem to have turned into the base of operations. The whole time, all you can think about is that if everyone else is alive, does that mean that the non-Sburb players are?

You know that there was a Dirk who is sort of Bro, but he isn’t the same. No one’s the same as Bro, and you just want him back. You haven’t talked to anyone about it, but you know that Tavros can tell sometimes, even if he doesn’t say anything about it. 

When you don’t bring it up after a while, Tavros decides to.

“Are your guardians back?”

“What, you mean like my dad?” Tavros nods, and John considers it. “I didn’t think of that.”

You try not to let your shoulders droop, because that could very well mean a “no,” and Tavros looks like he’s itching to comfort you. Instead, he merely says, “We have, kind of, been looking for Dave’s bro,” which is somewhat of a lie that you don’t try to stop.

“I’ll ask Roxy if there’s a way to change the settings on the lost-and-found-ifier.”

“That is the gayest name for anything I’ve ever heard.”

John laughs. “I’m not the one who’s been camping in a one-room tent with Tavros here for a month straight.”

You and Tavros both tense, but luckily, John is off before he can catch on. 

“Is there, something wrong, with our… relationship?” Tavros asks when you’re as alone as you’ll get for the next few days.

“More than you can imagine,” you mutter.

Tavros grips your hand, and it takes all your inner strength not to yank away for fear that someone will see. “I, want to understand.”

“Humans… aren’t as open about this sort of thing as trolls are.”

“What, about concupiscent relationships?”

“No, I mean… Only a dude and a chick get together. That’s just how things swing.”

“But, Rose and Kanaya—”

“That’s a whole different story, dude. Rose’s mom doesn’t give a shit.”

“And, your bro does?”

You frown and pull your hand away. “I’m from Texas. Not really gay-friendly.”

“I, don’t understand.”

“It’s weird, okay? It’s unnatural and gross, and people are only okay with Rose and Kanaya because they’re chicks, and they’d probably rip anyone’s throat out if they tried to complain.”

“Do you, think it’s gross?” he asks, and you feel your heart break for him.

“Sometimes,” you admit quietly. 

His fingers brush against your palm, but he doesn’t take your hand again all day. When the two of you do finally settle down—it took ages to convince John that you actually wanted to room together, with the excuse that Tavros “has these stupid-ass nightmares, I mean, like, the big bastard can hardly be on his own in the dark for an hour before he’s crying for his lusus”—he props his head on your shoulder.

“If it’s, unnatural, then why are you attracted to males?”

“If I knew, I would fix it.”

“Then…” Tavros swallows and pulls you closer. “Can we not try to find out?”

“Sure,” is all you can manage to say. Sometimes you forget that he actually wants to be with you.

They find Bro about a month later, during which everyone and their mother (sort of literally) finds out about your relationship with Tavros. 

Rose could tell the moment you sat down to dinner with her—she didn’t have to say anything; you just knew that she was giving you the “told you you were a faggot” look—and you suspect she mentioned something to Kanaya. John found out when he walked in to wake you up the following morning, without knocking, and Tavros was comforting you via his mouth on your morning wood. It’s a short walk to everyone else discovering from there (Tavros mentioned something to you about flushed pheromones), but it is widely greeted with congratulations from the trolls and knowing grins from the humans. Tavros is clearly having mixed emotions about the humans’ responses, after what you had told him, and truth be told, so are you.

You never had wanted to be gay, but they almost make you feel like it really will be okay. Almost. 

You still know that you needed to talk to Bro about it. 

It doesn’t take long for the team to get you to him. He’s holed up in a pretty bitching apartment that kind of makes you feel like you should have gotten out of his hair a long time ago. 

When he sees you, his pokerface is as in place as ever but you think he almost looks happy. You’d be able to tell better if he weren’t wearing his huge-ass shades. Yours broke a while ago and you hadn’t gotten around to replacing them. You used to have a stash in your old apartment—you broke a lot of sunglasses—but it hit you now that this isn’t your old apartment.

And that it’s been over three years since you last saw him.

The two of you stand and stare at each other for a while, and behind you, Tavros fidgets just enough to attract Bro’s attention.

“Who’s the alien dude?”

You tilt your chin up a little. “Strife?”

He shrugs. “The roof ain’t as great here.”

“It’ll do.”

The three of you traverse through the halls and crawl out a window to the fire escape, which you climb to the roof. It’s less boxy than your old apartment’s, and it somehow seems less sturdy. You know that realistically the same structural support is there; it just is unfamiliar and too _shiny_ , not scuffed by years of erosion by weather, metal, and blood.

Bro doesn’t give you a chance to even draw a sword before he’s launching himself at you, and it’s only your flashstep that manages to save you from another early demise. Your knees wobble a little until you find your feet underneath you and lurch toward your brother, swords clashing together with a loud metallic clang. Briefly, you catch Tavros watching with concern from the sidelines, but that’s all you get before you’re skidding across the roof. 

Bro pauses long enough for you to kick off your shoes and socks. You can’t count the times the two of you had duelled in little else but shorts, the Houston heat too much for anything more. Needless to say, your feet had once upon a time been used to the abuse. 

You don’t keep track of the time or the injuries you each sustain. You don’t keep track of the gasps or worried chirps that Tavros makes. You only focus on wearing yourself out, physically exhausting yourself until the barriers crack. It was only customary—Bro had always said that talking was easiest after a long strife, when all that was left was emotion, and you know this will be one of your most important talks. 

Probably only second to the one where you’d asked about your parents.

When Bro pins you to the roof for the third time, you no longer have the strength to push him back, and you drop your sword, panting. You’re all but drenched with sweat, and Bro looks no better. Both of you are covered in cuts both miniscule and substantial, most of them still bleeding, and you know that bruises will have formed by morning. 

But it’s a good pain, a familiar one, and Bro rolls off of you to lie by your side.

“So, you wanted to chat, lil bro?”

Words fail you, even with the exhaustion wearing on you. You want to tell him the truth; you want to tell him everything. You hear Tavros’ clothes rustling, and your eyes snap to find him edging away, as if to give the two of you some privacy, and you pin him with a sharp look. _Don_ _’_ _t you dare leave me alone here._ He apparently gets the message, because he hesitates before walking over to you, kneeling. You can sense his overwhelming desire to do some incredibly sappy thing like brush through your hair or cradle your head, or begin attending to the various injuries, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he displays restraint and instead curls his fingers against his thighs.

“This about the longhorn?” Bro asks, and you feel him incline his head toward the troll.

“Yeah,” you manage to breathe. “This is Tavros. I know he looks dorky, but he’s alright.”

“Dorky?” Your bro snorts, and you all but glow with pride in your boyfriendsprit. “Dude’s built like a fucking fighter jet.”

You swallow, and before you can stop yourself, you say, “I’m piloting that fighter jet.” You don’t turn to look at Bro, instead focusing on the way Tavros’ brow is wrinkled with confusion. Normally when you’re this tired, you wouldn’t resist your urge to reach up and smooth a thumb over his forehead. 

Bro’s silent for a while, until he finally asks, “Are we talking follow-the-leader piloting, or are you riding the bull like a rodeo bar.” It’s obvious by his inflection that he already knows the answer. Tavros’ attempt to keep his hands to himself cracks, and he brushes the pads of his fingers against your chin. You tear your head away and close your eyes so that you don’t have to see the pity on his face. It just makes you feel guilty. 

“The second one,” you say, barely a whisper.

Silence seems to stretch on for an eternity.

“Me too.” You hear Bro moving, but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes until Tavros is moving, too, shifting away from you like a cornered beast as Bro approaches. He squats next to you and holds out a hand. “Always knew you were my carbon copy.”

Your entire face goes slack with disbelief. “You.”

“What, the smuppets didn’t give it away?”

You don’t justify that with a response, because you somehow manage to throw yourself at your bro, knocking him over as you bury your face into his torso. You know that Tavros is working through the implications of the embrace, but you’ll explain that to him later. You inhale deeply, not caring how weird it is, because this is the first taste of home you’ve had in nearly four years. And for all the warmth that fills you whenever Tavros holds you, it’s just not the same as hugging Bro. 

Tavros does have one advantage, though, and that’s that he never pulls away like Bro does after a while. He pulls you to your feet after, while you try to pretend that you don’t feel like you’re going to cry because this isn’t reality. 

“Hey, alien musclegiant.”  
  


“Tavros,” you and he correct at the same time. Tav gives you the sweetest toothy smile, and you extend a hand to wrap around his wrist. He allows himself to be tugged closer. The way he meets your eyes makes your breath catch, so you look away before you end up blushing.

“Right, Tavbro,” Bro concedes. You can’t help but smirk; you’d called him the same thing, after you got past “Nitram.” “You taking care of my lil bro?”

“Of course,” Tavros assures. “I, pity him, more than anything—”

“It’s an alien thing,” you say before Bro has the same misunderstanding you did. “That was actually him being incredibly sappy.”

“But, it is true, and your ‘bro,’ I think, might feel better, if, maybe he doesn’t think you are, uh, piloting the fighter jet without a license.” You beam with pride at Tavros’ extended metaphor.

Bro glances at you before swinging an arm around Tavros’ shoulders and escorting him down the fire escape. He ushers the troll down first, and before he climbs down, he mouths over his shoulder to you. _Keep him._

Your heart soars so high you think you might actually choke on it. Bro approves of Tavros. You stand there on the roof, grinning to yourself like an idiot, for the longest time. Bro doesn’t seem to mind, as when you join them downstairs, he’s drawn Tavros into what appears to be a rousing game of taking turns at Pepsiman. For a minute, you stand and watch them, your bro sitting and chatting and playing with the literal man (alien) of your dreams. It’s almost too much.

When you say you’re going to bed early, no questions are asked. Bro already has a room set up for you. Tavros joins you not much later, having to extricate himself from Bro’s grasp because, “ _Dave, I want one._ _”_ When you tell him to fuck off because that one is claimed, he grins and pauses in the doorway.

“I’m fucking proud of you, kid.”

You’re kind of surprised when you don’t actually piss yourself like an excited Chihuahua.

Tavros nuzzles the side of your face, and you curl into him. Everything about him suddenly makes you overjoyed. 

“Bro loves you,” you murmur sleepily, eyes closed.

“The way you do?”

“Mm, no. No one can.” 

“I, just want you.” You trail your fingers along his ribcage, feeling the expansion with each breath. “Does, this make me, being a male, maybe a little okay?”

You exhale slowly through your nose. “No,” you reply, voice quiet. “But I don’t care. If Bro is okay with it, it’s fine.”

“You, uh, don’t want to fix it?”

You grimace. You know why you said it, but you still felt shitty about it. “About that. Next time I say something stupid like that, just clock me one.”

He smiled slowly, and you knew you were going to pay for the careless remark. “You, mean you want to stay with me? Even if, I am a male?”

“Tav, baby,” you say, willing to play it up simply to indulge him, “I’m Troll Wendy and you are my alarmingly attractive Pupa Pan.”

“Troll Wendy doesn’t stay in Neverland,” he points out.

“Neither did we.” You capture his lips, sinking into him, and he has no more questions or complaints. 

**Dave: Be the coolkid with the cool boyfriend.**

You are. And despite it all, even though you still struggle from time to time with your own demons, it turns out that you are incredibly proud of Tavros. 

Bro kind of is, too.


End file.
